He didn't speak to me at breakfast.
Not a word. Not a glance.
Malik sat at the far end of the table, arm in a sling, his back rigid. His cereal sat untouched, the spoon clutched loosely in his hand.
I hovered at the other end, unsure if I should sit or leave. My throat felt raw, my hands trembling.
"I don't want to touch you."
The words echoed inside my head. Not spoken aloud, but as real as if they had been.
I tried. I really did.
"Do you… want juice?" I asked, my voice fragile.
He shook his head without looking at me.
"Do you… want me to help you with your homework?"
Another shake.
Everything I did to reach him only seemed to push him further away. The more I tried to fix things, the more I realized that every movement, every glance, every attempt to care was part of the wave I had created.
After school, he didn't come home immediately. He stayed outside, in the yard, sitting on the porch steps.
I watched him through the window, heart hammering. Every second I didn't intervene felt wrong. Every second I did intervene felt dangerous.
By the time he came inside, the sun had already dipped below the horizon.
He walked past me, head down, shoulders hunched. Not a word. Not a look.
I wanted to scream, to beg, to explain. But I couldn't. Words were too dangerous. Words might create a sentence that made the tragedy even worse.
So I did nothing.
The next few days blurred together.
I didn't leave my room.
I barely ate.
I scribbled sentences in my notebook:
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"She's the reason."
"It's already too late."
I traced the words with my fingertips until the ink blurred.
Even my parents noticed. But I couldn't talk to them. I couldn't tell them what was happening.
Because if I did… if I explained…
"She will break him."
Lina had felt it too.
Malik felt it.
And I could feel it everywhere. The sentences, the wave, the ripples, all spinning faster, building momentum, and I was at the center.
By nightfall, I could hear Malik pacing in his room.
I sat on my bed, clutching my notebook, whispering apologies into the dark.
"I didn't mean to hurt you…"
The words didn't reach him. He didn't answer.
And the worst part? I knew they never would.
The distance wasn't just physical anymore.
It was emotional.
It was permanent.
The cracks were widening.
And the wave I had created was growing unstoppable.